Vaz

by Laurence Dahners

  “You ever wrestled?” Mike asked handing him a disposable mouth guard and putting in his own.

  “A little in high school.”

  “OK, we get down on our hands and knees and you can try to keep me from pinning you?”

  Gettnor pursed his lips, “OK. No hitting?”

  “No hitting. Just wrestling. I’ll start behind you, arm around your waist.”

  “OK.”

  They got down in the “referee’s position” with Gettnor on the bottom. Mike put his arm around Gettnor’s waist and was startled to feel rock hard muscle instead of the soft belly he’d somehow still been expecting. Mike said, “One, two, three, go!”

  Mike had expected Gettnor to be hard to pin after the power he’d displayed punching the bag. He hadn’t anticipated Gettnor effortlessly ripping up out of his grip and turning to face him! “Sheeit you’re strong!”

  Gettnor tilted his head, “Really?”

  “Really.” Mike shook his head. “Let me teach you some stuff about ‘how’ to fight and we’ll talk about how to spar safely. I don’t want to actually spar with you until you know the rules; as strong as you are someone’ll get hurt.” Mike felt nonplussed to realize that he felt concerned that the person getting hurt might be himself. He’d been doing this for years after all, and he was a big guy, in good shape. Gettnor was smaller than he was; more average sized but somehow, just a lot… stronger. “What kind of workouts do you do to make yourself so strong? Weights?”

  Gettnor shook his head, “No. Just pushups, pull-ups, sit-ups, hitting the bags, sometimes some other calisthenics.”

  “Cripes! That’s all?”

  Gettnor nodded. “They relax me… but I’ll admit, they seem to have an excessive effect.”

  Mike laughed, “Relax you… right…” He snorted, “What do you mean ‘excessive effect’?”

  “They’ve made me excessively muscular. I think they have a lot more effect on me than they do on other people. It’s kind of grotesque.” He slid up a sleeve, showing layers of cut musculature in his forearm that Mike stared at enviously. “I mean, this just isn’t right, is it?”

  Mike shook his head and barked another laugh. “What you’re calling grotesque is something that most of the guys that work out here would pay good money for.”

  Gettnor shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I really don’t want to look like a muscle bound freak. I’m hoping that I can get the same relaxation out of sparring as I do out of my exercises without ‘bulking up’ so much.”

  Mike grinned at him in disbelief; then said, “OK, let’s talk about how you can defend yourself from attack in the ring.”

  ***

  Lisanne got home late. She worked as a programmer at Radix, a local company that designed industrial process prototypes. She liked it because it was challenging work; collaborating with mechanical engineers to set up control systems for the machines they built. Some days were more challenging than others, like today, when the program for an industrial assembler had failed to place parts correctly. Because no one else could do anything until she figured out what was wrong, she’d stayed late to determine the cause.

  Hopeful when she’d seen that Vaz’s car was home she was delighted when she walked in and smelled something cooking. Vaz looked… relaxed and happy. Whatever he was cooking smelled great, though she wasn’t sure just what it smelled like. “Hey Hubby, what’cha got cookin’?”

  Vaz shrugged and twisted his lips, staring into the pan, “I’m not sure what you’d call it.” He cast his eyes around the stove, “It’s got fried flour tortilla strips, with mozzarella cheese, chopped tomatoes, garlic and the last of the pastrami, also chopped. I just shook in some spices at random.”

  “Sounds terrible,” Lisanne laughed, “but from past experience it’ll be somewhere between OK and amazing… Thanks for cooking.”

  “No problem. My day finished well and I felt like cooking. Hope it turns out OK.”

  Lisanne looked at him a moment, thinking about what a great husband he could sometimes be, good provider, great cook and just plain sweet. Recently he seemed to have even gotten over his tendency to occasionally fly into a fury. Those furies had been very frightening at first before she’d understood that he’d never actually hurt her. But he hadn’t had one in months despite a few stressful situations. He would tighten up but wouldn’t explode. Worst case he’d head down to his man cave in the basement and something down there cooled him off somehow. Whatever it was down there, she was glad it did whatever it did for him.

  For a moment she thought back to how brilliant she’d found him when he’d been assigned as her partner in a college computer science class. Nerdy, quiet, shy, not a people person, but wow amazing when it came to writing code.

  As she turned to go upstairs she glanced back and wondered briefly what had happened to his pants. They didn’t seem to fit right. She’d recently begun noticing that his clothes fit funny. He’d gone out and bought a bunch of clothes himself recently. She had always tried to discourage him from shopping for clothes because he had awful taste in clothing. The new clothes seemed to bag on him… oddly… kind of oversized, but… not. She just wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with them.

  ***

  Stillman Davis arrived at work feeling unsettled. He’d laid awake a good part of the night, mulling over his confrontation with Gettnor. Thinking of what he should have said. Wondering if the manner in which he’d dealt with the situation demonstrated the leadership qualities that he wanted to become known for.

  Gettnor was a goddamned loose cannon and Davis found himself resenting Smint for not dealing with such a personnel problem before he’d left. On the other hand, if he could prove that he could correct such antisocial tendencies and turn Gettnor into a team player, it would be something he’d be able to take pride in and list as an accomplishment.

  Once he’d dealt with a few issues that had stacked up overnight he hopefully checked to see if Gettnor had come to work on time this morning. The building’s security system logged all arrivals and departures. With some relief he saw that Gettnor had arrived at 7:50. A little early was good and Davis relaxed a little. However, just when he was about to close the security window he noticed that Gettnor had left work yesterday at 4:10!

  Davis closed his eyes and sank back in his chair. Christ! Just a day after he’d warned the bastard, Gettnor’d flaunted his order to be at work for his scheduled hours. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off an incipient headache. They were going to have to have another talk! Davis really didn’t want to talk to him but he forced himself to face up to his duty. If Gettnor couldn’t or wouldn’t toe the line then they didn’t need him in this company. It would set a bad example for the way Davis planned to lead his section if he turned a blind eye to such a flagrant disregard for the rules.

  Stillman looked at the schedule to see if he had time to confront Gettnor now. No he had an appointment. He felt a little relieved to avoid the impending conflict for a while, but told himself that it was good to have time to cool down.

  Vaz stared wide eyed at the results of the boron-vanadium-palladium alloy’s absorption test. Overnight it had sucked up 1,200 times its volume of hydrogen! Even though it was only 3% palladium the alloy was even more effective as a hydrogen sponge than the already astonishing but expensive metal. Well, that should make Davis happy. And if his new theory was right, it would absorb even more if he charged it electrically and more yet with an extremely high voltage, high frequency intermittent current that Vaz thought of as kind of “hammering” the hydrogen protons into the alloy.

  He set up and applied the current, then turned to the freshly casted testing disks of his new alloys. If he was right, increasing the vanadium concentration and slowing the crystallization was going to further emphasize the bizarre electrical properties. He harvested and began carefully laser labeling the disks, placing them in a rack as he went.

  Davis walked into Gettnor’s lab. He found Gettnor hunched over an a
pparatus, pulling out small disk shaped semi-metallic appearing objects. He would put them momentarily in a small cylindrical device, close it, give it a command, then immediately open it and take the disk out. From there the objects went into a little rack. He cleared his throat, “Dr. Gettnor.”

  Gettnor glanced at him, said “Just a minute,” and took another object out of the cylinder. He placed it in the rack, turned and said, “What now?” He didn’t get up.

  Davis’ eyes narrowed. Gettnor sounded positively surly. Damn the man anyway! He didn’t seem to have any conception of how the boss-employee relationship should work. Stillman had entered the room hoping for a reasonable explanation for why Gettnor’d left early yesterday, but now he found himself wanting to fire him just for his attitude. “You left the building yesterday at 4:10.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I told you that we expected you to be here for your entire shift!”

  “I’m not a ‘shift’ worker.” He’d held up his fingers and made little “quotes” signs at the word “shift.”

  “What the hell does that mean? You have assigned working hours, just like everyone else.”

  “I do projects. Sometimes I come in at night because something needs to be done, sometimes there’s nothing to do. I’m not going to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs to keep you happy.”

  Davis drew back, face purpling and about to explode.

  Gettnor’s eyes widened as they jumped to stare at something behind and to Davis’ left. Davis’ eyes turned to see smoke begin to pour off of an apparatus on the bench there. The lower part of it turned red and it slumped over sort of sagging off onto the floor.

  Davis danced away from splattering bits of melted material, his exposed skin

  feeling heat radiating from the mess. “What the Hell!?”

  Gettnor had jumped up shouting an order, presumably to the lab’s AI. The lab was plunged into darkness except for the red glow of the partially melted apparatus. Gettnor spoke again and the lights came back on. He slowly moved over to look at the mess on the floor. Davis noted with astonishment that Gettnor didn’t look upset or horrified. He looked excited and happy! “What the hell just happened there?!”

  Gettnor didn’t turn, he simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but we’ll have to figure it out. That was amazing!”

  “What in God’s name have you got going on down here Gettnor?!”

  Wide eyed, staring at the melted mess, Gettnor shook his head as if in amazement, “Where did all that energy come from?” he almost whispered.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t even have any idea what just happened?! You sleep on the job, come in late, leave early and your experiments are so out of control that fires are starting in your lab! Good God man, you’re not just a terrible employee, you’re a menace!”

  Gettnor didn’t even look up at Davis. He continued to stare at the smoldering mess on the floor as he scooted his chair closer to it and sat down. “What could do that?” he mumbled as if to himself. He stood again and disconnected some of the cables leading to the melted apparatus, then mumbled to his AI. The power came back on to the equipment that remained on the lab bench. Gettnor peered at the digital readouts on some of the equipment.

  “Gettnor!” Davis practically shouted, “Forget that crap for now. We need to talk about your performance!”

  Still mumbling, Gettnor picked up a meter and began hooking it up to fresh cables he jacked into the machines that had evidently been powering the melted apparatus. He didn’t appear to have heard Davis.

  Davis reached out and tapped Gettnor on the shoulder but Gettnor brushed at his hand like one might slap at an irritating fly that had landed.

  Davis stared unbelievingly a moment longer then said, “Gettnor, I’ve had enough. You’re fired! I’ll send security to escort you from the building. I imagine we owe you some kind of severance pay and I’ll make sure you get it, but for now, start packing up your stuff.”

  Davis stopped by his secretary’s desk on his way back to his office. “Maddie, I’ve just fired Dr. Gettnor. Have Security escort him from the building. Put me in touch with HR. I’ll need to talk to them about hiring a replacement and whatever severance package Gettnor’s due.”

  Maddie stared wide eyed at him. “Are you sure?! Dr. Smint always said...” she trailed off at the incendiary look Davis gave her.

  Davis ground out, “I know that Smint and Gettnor had some kind of special relationship. I, however, am not putting up with Gettnor’s crap! He’s out of here. I’ve already informed him. Though,” he quirked an odd smile, “Gettnor’s in his own little world, he might not have even heard me.”

  Davis slammed into his office and downloaded copies of all of his interactions with Gettnor into a file for the HR weenies to dither about. For a moment he wondered if he might have overreacted, but then decided no, there was absolutely no justification for the man’s insolence, inattentiveness and just plain dangerous performance. Gettnor was so far from a model employee that no one in their right mind would tolerate him on their staff.

  Allen checked the charge on his Taser; then put it back on his belt. He hitched the belt up and leaned in the door to Gettnor’s lab. “Dr. Gettnor?” The broad backed man sitting in the lab didn’t look up from studying the readouts on some of the equipment. With some surprise Allen noticed that the room had a burned smell as if there had been a fire. Allen stepped in through the door. His eyes widened as he saw what looked like a partly melted mass of material on the floor and noticed that part of the countertop on the lab bench had slumped down just above the melty stuff. His brows high, he cleared his throat, “Dr. Gettnor?” he said again, a little louder. The man held up his hand as if staving off the interruption while he continued studying the equipment on the bench behind the slumped area. Irritated, Allen waved his partner Jimmy into the room and put his hand on the Gettnor’s shoulder, “Sir!” he began but Gettnor slapped his hand away and again put up a peremptory palm signaling him to wait.”

  Allen rubbed his wrist where Gettnor had struck it. It hurt! However he waited a moment, honoring Gettnor’s signal to wait. The moment stretched to a minute, then two. Finally Allen cleared his throat again and when there was still no response, said “Dr. Gettnor!”

  Gettnor simply put up his palm again, still focused on the equipment. This time when Allen put his hand on Gettnor’s shoulder, he placed it low, where Gettnor wouldn’t be able to slap at it. Gettnor shrugged the shoulder in irritation but still didn’t turn. Allen began to pull, wondering what it would take to get the man to turn around.

  Finally, Gettnor’s head snapped around, focusing a penetrating gaze on Allen. Allen involuntarily took a step back, intimidated by the intense glare. Gettnor said, “What?!”

  “Uh, we’re here to escort you from the building.” Allen waved in the general direction of Jimmy.

  A crease appeared between Gettnor’s eyes. “I don’t need to leave the building! What are you talking about?”

  “Uh, you’ve been fired. Mr. Davis, your department head, said he already told you.”

  “What!?”

  Allen firmed up his stance and stuck his thumbs in his web belt. “You’ve been fired. We’re here to escort you from the building.”

  A confused look passed over Gettnor’s eyes. He spoke to his AI, asking it to connect him to Maddie in the Department head’s office. “Maddie?”

  After a pause in which she evidently responded, he said, “There are some of the rent-a-cops here saying that Davis fired me and they’re ‘escorting me from the premises.’ Can he do that?”

  Another pause, then Gettnor tilted his head and said, “Really?”

  A moment more and Gettnor rolled his eyes and said, “OK. Thanks.” He stood and picked up a rack full of small metal disks. He dumped the metal pieces out onto the lab bench; then swept them off the bench into his left hand.

  Allen was already pissed at being called a “rent-a-cop” but he was flabbergasted when Gettnor pull
ed open the flap on the big thigh pocket of his cargo pants and dropped the discs into it. “Dr. Gettnor, you can’t take Querx’s material with you! That’s what we’re here for; to make sure you take only personal items.”

  Gettnor shrugged, “I made these.”

  “You made them while you were a Querx employee.” Allen said, trying to project patience, “You used Querx equipment and Querx materials. They belong to Querx.”

  Gettnor shrugged; then said, “No one here knows what they are. No one here cares what they are or needs them for anything. They’re worthless to Querx.”

  Allen frowned, “Nonetheless, they belong to Querx and they need to stay here.” He reached for Gettnor’s pocket.

  Gettnor grabbed his wrist. Hard! Allen gasped and found his knees bending a little. Gettnor, eyes narrowed, ground out, “Do not touch me.” Letting go he put his hand into the pocket and pulled out a handful of the metal disks, tossing them back onto the lab bench. He sighed, “Querx can keep them. Fat lot of good it will do them.”

  Allen suspected that some of the small pieces of metal were still in Gettnor’s pocket, but he also suddenly decided not to make a big deal of it. “OK. Jimmy’s brought a box. Do you have any personal items in here?”

  Jimmy popped the flattened box open and folded it to hold things while Gettnor glanced around. “No.” he said.

  “OK, how about in your office?”

  In Gettnor’s office Allen was surprised to find that his “personal items” consisted of one picture, apparently of a wife, son and daughter, a chin up bar, which had to be detached from the ceiling, and a set of hand grips to do push-ups with. Allen shook his head. He had more personal stuff in his locker than this guy had in an entire office! He and Jimmy escorted the guy down and out the front door, then had the security system disable his access.